


the first of many

by awkwardspaceturtle (CastelloFlare)



Series: dumbstruck [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 11:51:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8012638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CastelloFlare/pseuds/awkwardspaceturtle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allura had poked her head above Shiro’s shoulder and expected to see a very graphic dick pic at best (and simultaneously at worst). Needless to say, Shiro had to do a lot of apologizing afterwards to the audience and the Professors, but it was all worth it for Allura to see this seemingly perfect specimen of man crumble into a sappy mess over a simple <em>‘See me on the track field after school?’</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the first of many

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE ANYTHING, i would like to thank everyone who has been very supportive of this sappy unintentional series  
> this was really just supposed to be a oneshot of a pining!shiro plot that just crossed my mind, and i never thought this story would resonate with a lot of people so it has just been really overwhelming
> 
> ALSO, i'd like to apologize for the very late update  
> i swear i've been going back to this series, thinking and rethinking specific plot points i wanted to add  
> also, i have this tendency to have headaches when i cross my own 2k word limit lmao  
> (most of my writings are drabbles; even my chaptered fics are divided into less than 2k slices)
> 
> so it's already 1:40AM and i'm too tired to go over and edit this, so do forgive me for any grammar and/or spelling mistake you might encounter along the way
> 
> thank you so much for clicking on this in the first place. hope you enjoy this cheesy college au xoxo

 

 

“We’ve got a really promising freshman on our team this year.”

“Yeah?” Shiro smiled as he scribbled down some notes on his leather clipboard. _Orders for three more MF-100 stopwatches, replacements for a few competitor hurdles, a couple of blocks that need repair, another megaphone, six broken orange cones…_

“Names’s Keith, and he’s really good. Better than most we’ve seen. May even be better than when you once tried out at freshman year.”

Shiro chuckled lightly; he knew the track team captain was trying to get him back on the team by dangling a skilled competitor in front of him. It’s never worked, and it won’t work now – it’s not that Shiro’s done with sports; he was already finished drifting from one hobby to another and exploring his options, and had finally found where his priorities lie.

“Just has a little bit of an attitude problem, but nothing the team hasn’t dealt with before.”

Also nothing Shiro has never heard of before.

He listened to his friend’s complaints about a hundred other things with noncommittal lenience; he knew all his friend needed was someone to indulge him for a bit, a break from being the team leader barking out orders and keeping everyone in the team grounded. A sentiment Shiro understood pretty well.

As the light conversation moved on to different topics, he threw Keith’s name along with other things at the back of his mind without another thought.

Months later, he’d be hopelessly falling for the boy.

 

 

 

 

“Allura, you have _got_ to help me put on some eyeliner.”

Shiro’s rare frantic tone made Allura momentarily raise her head up from one of the many sketchpads that littered Shiro’s dorm room floor. _This_ was new. When has Shiro ever asked her help for _that_?

“You, who are always called by the drama club to assist in their make-up, are asking _me_ to draw a majestic sharp wing thingy on your face?” She said, an eyebrow arched in disbelief, but as she turned to meet Shiro, her eyebrows and mouth instantaneously dropped into thin straight lines.

Shiro’s arms were noticeably trembling, metal fingers curled tightly around a pen, and above his eyes were what seemed to be newly drawn radio frequency waves.

Allura carefully put the sketchpad down – the entire bulk dutifully dedicated to a flipbook animation of Keith mouthing Shiro’s name; her personal favorite out of everything Shiro has done so far – and made her way to the vanity where the 3000-year old virgin sat scowling at his reflection.

Shiro had told her he’d made the long awaited call the previous night; that he had actually grown some chest hair and dialed Keith’s number. Her immediate response was to drop the phone, scream, dance around and aggressively throw her pillows everywhere, before semi-calming down and asking for the details.

“I knew you could do it!” She had literally screamed into the phone. “How did it go? Did you get to talk a while?”

She could imagine Shiro’s face burning up as he recounted his conversation with Keith, fingers most likely fidgeting on the creases of his pajamas in an unfocused manner.

_I got some coherent words out, and no, we only talked for a bit – if you count him making 95% of the conversation and me filling up the 5% with unintelligible crap as talking –_

Allura snickered, imagining how the Shiro who had ceased to function normally when he stood beside Keith in the library had somehow survived exchanging full words or sentences with the person who had gotten through his metaphorical veil.

_… and, Allura, I think… I’m in a relationship._

“Relationship,” she echoed, the realization coming in delayed. Suddenly, it was like a volcano filled with rainbows and bunnies exploded in Allura’s brain.

“ _WAIT_ ,” she said, standing up from her bed and holding a palm up to no one in particular for effect. “So on your first phone call to Keith Calzone—”

 _Ko-ga-ne._ Shiro sighed in exasperation.

“—you somehow skipped the whole elaborate courting phase and now you have a boyfriend— _Oh my god, Shiro_ —you have a _boyfriend_.”

On the other side of the line, Allura could hear the sound of Shiro tripping on his bedside lamp wire; apparently he was pacing back and forth in his dorm room.

“Wait, what do you mean, ‘you _think_ ’?”

_Well, I mean – I’m not too sure, but – well, we got interrupted before he could actually respond, so…_

“ _You_ were the one to ask him out?” Allura beamed, legit tears pooling in her eyes. “But you’re more positive about him saying ‘yes’, I take it?”

 _… Well, he_ was _the one who told me I should ask him out— Allura, what was that sound and what_ are _you doing exactly?_

“Sorry,” Allura said, her voice a few octaves higher due to excitement. “I had this sudden urge to scream and punch something, so I directed all my excess energy into an unsuspecting pillow. So, you were saying _he_ told you to ask him out?”

It took a while before Shiro could answer.

… _Oh my god, he did. Yes, he was the one who—oh my god. So technically it was him who asked me out then…? So I guess his response is a definite yes…?_

Allura snickered good naturedly at how Shiro’s voice grew smaller with every realization that hit him. This man, who is one of the most respected and venerated students in campus, was easily rendered hopeless by a freshman she only got to be familiar with through Shiro’s detailed sketches. It was as if this Keith Kapote had unlocked a secret bonus game pack inside Shiro that only he was the one permitted access to.

Allura had spent the following hour assuring Shiro that he was now indeed romantically involved with someone who also reciprocated the same feelings. More screaming and pounding on the pillows ensued, and that night was the first time the floor manager ever paid her a visit since she started her residency in the Cassiopeia Dormitory.

Then earlier this morning, the boyfriend had sent a text. Shiro had seen the message pop up on his tablet during the Astronomy Club meeting, and Allura was certain it was the first time she’d ever seen Shiro _stutter_ in the middle of giving a presentation on their club’s activities.

_“So in conclusion, the proceeds gained from our recent exhibit will all be donated to the Science Club of—”_

_*pop*_

_“—oh. …I mean, uh… the uh, the Science Club of Blackwood Pubic High—I mean,_ Public _High School—and… as, uh, as students of the prestigious Galaxy Academy, we shall continue to become their bacon of light – I, er,_ b-beacon _of light—”_

Allura had poked her head above Shiro’s shoulder and expected to see a very graphic dick pic at best (and simultaneously at worst). Needless to say, Shiro had to do a lot of apologizing afterwards to the audience and the Professors, but it was all worth it for Allura to see this seemingly perfect specimen of man crumble into a sappy mess over a simple _‘See me on the track field after school?’_.

So today was officially the day Shiro would see Keith as his boyfriend – hence the eyeliner dilemma.

 

 

The walk across the quad to get to the track field behind the Orion and Pegasus Dormitories was one Allura liked to call as Shiro’s _“Final March of the Virgin”_ , a suggestive title which caught him off guard and made his legs instantaneously melt into jelly. The furious blush that decorated his face, along with his widened incredulous eyes, amused Allura that she took a quick snapshot of him with her phone. She called the photo _“The Bachelor’s Last Portrait”._

“ _Allura_ ,” Shiro hissed, his tone becoming unusually authoritative towards her, yet the blush tinting his cheeks made it hard for her to take him seriously.

“I know, I know,” Allura said as she wiped some tears from her eyes. “I just feel like a mother who’s about to watch her son graduate and finally become someone’s man.”

Then, her tone and expression suddenly went sober and gentle, her glittery eyes filled with something warm and parental. She clasped her slender fingers on his big shoulders and steadied him, her eyes unwavering where they locked onto his.

“This is your _first_ date with your first love, Shiro. It’s going to be the first of _many things_ for you, with _him_.”

“How could you be so sure that we would last long enough to enjoy those firsts— he might not even like me that much—”

“No, stop this kind of destructive thinking at once and listen to me, you big dork,” Allura said, her grip pressing into Shiro. “If he does hurt you… well, son, the reality is that’s part of the whole package. When you love someone, you allow yourself to become vulnerable.”

Shiro went rigid and quiet, eyes searching Allura’s face.

“And if it does come to _that_ _kind_ of ending, it’ll hurt. But you’ll deal with it, you’ll hopefully get over it and you’re going to come out stronger, and I will secretly destroy him.”

Shiro’s eyes grew wide and he’s about to say something, but Allura held a finger up to shush him.

“ _However_ , my woman’s instincts tell me he’s going to be good to you, and I know for a fact that you will do right by him. Therefore, I do firmly believe that you’ll be fine, Shiro.”

The tension from her best friend’s body had discernibly dissipated, and Shiro’s shoulders became relaxed in her hands. The crease between his furrowed eyebrows slowly disappeared, and his usual warm gentle smile materialized on his face.

“Thank you, Allura.”

“You’re always welcome, Shiro,” she smiled, and she radiated with the warmth and tenderness that she reserved only for her most favorite people. They stayed that way for a few more ticks, letting the quiet calm of the moment pass over them.

“And that’s what I call _‘The Final Pep Talk of—’_ ”

Shiro audibly sighed, exasperated, and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

“You just _had_ to break the moment, didn’t you.”

 

 

Keith’s presence was like a lighthouse calling for Shiro’s ship to shore – this much Allura could tell, with the way Shiro’s body completely froze in the sea of people occupying the track field.

The plethora of moving bodies congested within one place made it hard for her to spot the mullet anywhere, but she only had to follow Shiro’s line of sight to find Keith within the crowd – and there he was, running all the way from across the field, the wind flowing into the smooth current of his semi-long hair, taut firm legs commanding the earth to rotate under the soles of his feet.

He wasn’t exactly running as much as he was _flying_ across the sunkissed terrain.

Allura glanced back at Shiro, who had tentatively taken a step closer to the first lane of the track, the lure and charm of the younger boy beckoning him. In his eyes was a chemical reaction of deep respect, admiration and irrepressible attraction; his insides a combustion of sparks and nerves and something warm and fuzzy.

The way he was looking at Keith made Allura turn her head in embarrassment; she felt as if she was intruding on something unreservedly intimate that should be kept privately between the two – that she was witnessing Shiro laying himself transparent and vulnerable to Keith’s scorching vibrance.

Shiro attentively watched as Keith neared the proximity of his space, each swift yet steady footfall mimicking the loud rhythm echoing in his chest.

Time lost its meaning the moment Keith came an arm’s length away from Shiro and their eyes found each other – Keith turned his head, a soft expression on his face as if saying _You’re here_ , before flashing him a breathless grin – and just as quickly, he blazed past, leaving the air electrified and ignited in his wake.

Shiro’s eyes continued to travel the growing distance between them, but he knew – every step further meant a step closer to the next time they reunite.

“Allura,” he half-whispered after a beat, summoning his friend to his side. “I just asked _that_ guy out.”

“I know,” Allura smiled, and she gave Shiro’s shoulder a supportive squeeze.

 

 

 

 

Keith had been on dates before – granted, he doesn’t let people in so easily, but according to the info he’d threatened out of the self-proclaimed biggest Shiro fanboy Lance (until the boyfriend Hunk stepped in), his own experiences, albeit few and far in between, tops that of Shiro’s blank slate. He had kissed another kid during a party albeit drunk, made out with a couple of other people, even fumbled with a senior in the track team during high school – so asking the Galaxy Garrison poster boy out shouldn’t be tantamount to feeling like a virgin at dating.

He shouldn’t be showering twice in the locker rooms, nor choosing which socks to wear under his boots because they are all the same kind of black, the same kind of cotton. His heart shouldn’t be hammering inside his ribcage like a ticking time bomb. He shouldn’t even replay the way Shiro had stuttered a quiet and simple _Yes_ when Keith asked him to wait a bit while he changed from his tracksuit into his regular clothes.

 _He’s been on dates before_. He already knows what a dude’s cock feels like spilling into his hands, knows what a tongue is capable of in another person’s mouth. When did this ridiculous zoo set itself up in his stomach anyway?

Okay, so maybe he _has_ been quite… _aware_ of Takashi Shirogane for quite a while.

Maybe the school banner screaming _Enrollment Open_ was a little too convincing with him standing at the forefront of a line of students, buff arms snugly folded on a broad chest.

Maybe the myth about everyone being a little bit in love with him was true, and Keith was absolutely convinced he was a sucker like everyone else.

Also, maybe Keith shouldn’t have been throwing paper airplanes out the window from the third floor when Shiro was passing through the quad on his way to his class.

Keith had been half-bored, and half on a bet with Pidge about the number of paper planes he could fly out the window without getting caught. He was already on his twenty-seventh masterpiece when he’d spotted a lone figure bending down and picking up all the crash-landed aircrafts by the round fountain on the soft Bermuda grass.

Out of curiosity, Keith looked.

Strong looking legs. Trim torso leading to a pair of full pecs. Thick arms, one human and one metal, hidden under a grey cotton cashmere half-zip sweater. The signature scar on his face that has spawned theories upon theories of mostly farfetched backstories among the students. The trademark eyeliner that accentuated the beautiful arch of his eyes.

 _Oh_.

It was the guy who gave the welcome address on the admission ceremony a month ago. Keith remembered nothing from the speech, yet devotedly committed the image of the speaker into memory. Simultaneously he had resigned himself to be part of the large majority who could only hope to get close to him.

And so there he was, Takashi Shirogane, brown leather satchel slung over his shoulder as he bent down and retrieved the paper airplanes littering the quad. Keith went stiff as Shiro unfolded one and introduced himself to Keith’s amateur doodles and mediocre poems.

He had left nothing on the paper that would betray his identity, yet Keith still felt like dropping everything and living alone in the middle of the desert.

But then Shiro smiled, like a child amused at what he’d discovered.

Keith’s stomach fluttered, and his cheeks went warm as his body melted with the realization that in that exact moment, he was a goner.

Shiro became the ghost in the room wherever he went, the presence he’d be most aware of when they shared a Gen Ed class together. Shiro was the name that would stand out from all the words whispered around the halls. Shiro became the secret he shared with a hundred other silent admirers, and he was just another star in the sea of tiny twinkling lights that got lost trying to get close to the brilliance of Shiro’s sun.

Shiro was another name to add to the list of boys who had zero chances of giving Keith a second glance.

At least, that’s what he believed until just recently.

Until that day in the library when he’d silently watched Shiro walk out the door with the stack of books at hand, content with the safety of distance and emotional shield of being strangers. He wasn’t sure how long he was stuck in a trance, until a flash of long silver hair walked past him, and he realized with a sudden splash of cold water that he was _undoubtedly_ seen staring.

And a sketchpad with Shiro’s name on it was lying on the floor by his feet.

Maybe if he’d paid more attention around himself than forcing his little crush down to the pits of the underworld, he would’ve known Shiro was looking, too.

 

 

The sky had turned into an infinite carpet of contrasting light and dark when Keith stepped out of the locker rooms. He worried that he’d made Shiro wait a little too long, but upon seeing him sitting down on the almost empty soccer field with his head angled towards the breathtaking view of the heavens, his uncertainties faded away momentarily – only to be immediately replaced by the surge of schoolboy anxiety and a metal battle of which greeting to start with.

The footsteps leading to Shiro served as the countdown until his heart explodes in his chest.

 _Okay, be cool, Kogane. Don’t be a Lance when he tried to kiss Hunk but chomped on his nose instead. Be_ cool _._

“Hey.”

A simple ‘Hey’ – it doesn’t seem too eager or too uninterested. _Good_.

At the sound of his voice, Shiro suddenly turns his head, an incredulous expression on his face as if saying _You’re here_ as both a question and a declaration, and Keith still can’t believe that he’s the one who’s making Shiro look so flustered and unprepared and nervous.

Shiro stood up almost too abruptly, shoulders set in a rigid posture, legs shaking not under the weight of a heavy muscular upper body but of the smaller body standing before him.

“H-hi,” he stammered, hands clasped in shaky fists at both sides.

Keith needed a moment to breathe. Finally facing him like this was the bewilderment and curiosity of the first pitter-patter of rain on a tin roof in the middle of a scorching desert. The excitement and anticipation of a long-awaited book finally hitting the shelves of local bookstores. The nerve-wracking edge of the first time performing on stage. The relief and overwhelming feeling of coming home from being stranded out at sea for too long.

He felt like a mess coming together and yet simultaneously coming undone.

What’s even more compelling than his own feelings was the fact that Shiro reciprocated them.

Keith took a step closer, and it’s the bravest thing he’d done today.

 

 

 

 

_Walk with me?_

When Keith had asked him, what Shiro wanted to say was _Anywhere_.

Instead, the part of his brain that governed speech completely froze, and all he managed was a slight nod.

And that’s how they’re currently walking around the curve of the now almost empty track towards the gaping exit of the oval, a distance of at least one more person between them. Shiro keeps his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with them – should he hold Keith’s hand? Put an arm around his shoulder, like what other couples do?

They make a left turn on the red brick sidewalk, Keith leading the way to wherever they were going. Streetlamps lined the street at measured intervals, like caged stars planted at both sides of the street, illuminating the grey pavement and green lawns all around.

The deafening silence heightens all of Shiro’s senses, providing the distraction he sorely needs to keep his head clear of the fuzzy warm haze that had materialized in it since the morning. He’s too aware of the decreasing number of people around them, the sound of insects buzzing the wings of birds flapping against the wind. The smell of the earth and grass, the night chill licking over his exposed skin. Keith’s hands in his own pockets, keeping his own heat and words to himself.

Shiro wonders when the silence will stop feeling awkward, or if it will, at all.

He doesn’t have to think long – beside him an arm’s length away, Keith wordlessly reaches a hand out and carefully hooks his pinky into the left pocket of Shiro’s jeans, the slender digit just barely ghosting over the side of his palm.

Instantly, Shiro’s entire body feels a sudden rise in temperature despite the cool night air – and he makes a mental note to add another thing to the list of things he’s recently discovering: being with Keith does things to his body.

He isn’t sure who tugged who closer – but the space between them decreases, the fabric wrapping their elbows grazing against the other’s. Shiro’s head spins – how do people even manage to breathe – and as they approach a circle of light pooled around a streetlamp, he braves one glance at the boy who just put a rollercoaster inside his stomach.

Keith’s head is slightly angled away from him, the corners of his mouth set in a taut line, jaw clenched tight. Long dark hair obscures his eyes, but Shiro could see enough of his face to see the blood rising from Keith’s neck to his cheeks and ears.

_[I’m basically allowing you access to hold my hand in public.]_

Shiro swallows. _I’m so weak I’m so weak I’m so weak I’m so weak I’m so weak I’m so weak I’m so weak—_

Inside the confines of his pocket where their warmth resides, a miracle happens – and Shiro’s pinky finds Keith’s; a moment of both weakness and courage so loud that it makes them both stop in their tracks.

Keith turns to cast an expectant look at Shiro, who’s rendered immobile with the quick dose of bravery in his veins, all instantly dissipated the moment Keith’s eyes found his, and he’s hit with the realization that he has never wanted to hold anyone’s hand like this, ever.

“Keith—” Shiro stutters a little too breathlessly, but that’s it. _Keith_ is all he manages to, _wants to_ say, and the name feels snug and nice on his tongue.

Then warmth spreads from his pinky to his palm and wrist, seeping through the denim of his jeans and all throughout his body as Keith takes his hand out of his pocket and holds it between them.

“It’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say my name,” Keith says quietly, and he intertwines his fingers with Shiro, lightly rubbing on his knuckles. In this moment, Shiro understands just why there are spaces between fingers, and why hands only curl inward.

“I-I’ve always wanted to call you that,” Shiro stammers, eyes cast where they’re linked together. Holding his hand is the joy of meeting old friends, the thrill of reading a good book.

“What, my name? That’s always how I’ve been called,” Keith chuckles good-naturedly, and he gives Shiro’s hand a tiny squeeze that reaches all the way to his heart, before he adds, “But hearing you say it feels different from the way everyone else makes it sound.”

There it is again, Keith’s straightforward bluntness that never fails to tug at somewhere deep within Shiro and leave him speechless and dumbstruck.

Keith shifts on the balls of his feet, eyes tracing the delicate shadows on their clasped hands. “What’s the standard protocol for this anyway? Do we make up names for ourselves like couples do?”

 _Couples_ – they’re actually one now. Shiro still can’t quite fathom the entirety of the situation, and yet the magnitude of which is swiftly pulling him into the welcoming heat of the hand in his.

“Well, I have always been called ‘Shiro’—”

“ _Takashi_.”

The name – seven letters, three syllables, reserved only for intimate ties such as Shiro’s immediate family – is whispered into the night air like an elusive secret, a quiet truth, a concise yet eloquent promise on Keith’s lips.

One word, and it echoes like a hauntingly beautiful melody in Shiro’s ears. Keith’s eyes and hand on him are the only things that keep him from flying.

“… What?”

“Takashi,” Keith repeats, rolling the letters of his name over his tongue. “Can I call you ‘ _Takashi_ ’?”

 _Wow_ , Shiro thinks. They haven’t done anything but walk in silence and hold hands while they think up of names for each other, and despite ending up with using their own names anyway, he’s already _this_ flustered. His hands are clammy in his pocket and in Keith’s hand; a little more and he fears he might just have hyperhidrosis.

“I-I’m sorry I’m—” Shiro stutters, his free hand flying to shield his face as if the lamplight was enough to melt him to a sloppy mess. “… I’ve been emotionally compromised.”

Another silence ensues, counted by the loud beating inside his chest, until Keith chuckles lightly, leans in, speaks:

“… Do _I_ make you nervous?”

Shiro visibly tenses at the spoken truth, and that’s answer enough for Keith.

“Here’s a secret,” the freshman says, squeezing Shiro’s hand before carefully placing it on his chest. Beneath the fabric of his crimson cardigan and plaid shirt, Shiro can feel the warmth of his skin and the accelerated yet steady thrumming in his chest.

Shiro leans in, presses his whole palm against the contrasting softness and sturdiness of Keith.

“You make my body _sing_.”

 

 

How they get to where they are now is beyond Shiro – his memory’s a confusing haze of Keith’s fingers entangled in his, of burning cheeks and words stuck in his throat, of hearing his name over and over, of wishing the night to be infinite.

And then Keith stops, and so does he, and when his eyes leave Keith’s for the first time since the last half hour, he realizes how unfocused he was of his surroundings when he’s surprised they’re still within campus.

They’re standing by the round fountain in the quad fronting the Jupiter Hall of Science, a four-storey brick building with glass windows and large mahogany double doors. He remembers taking most of his classes here during freshman year, remembers meeting Allura in one of the crowded hallways. Some of the classrooms are still lit, both intelligent and unintelligible noises wafting out of the open windows and into the vast green lawn of the quad.

Shiro turns to look at Keith, and his chest does another backflip when he is met by a long unwavering gaze from the younger boy.

“I…” Keith begins, a little breathless, hand clammy around Shiro’s. “I remember going to a lake back when I was younger. It was during a summer camp, I think.”

A jolt of hazy warmth passes through Shiro’s spine as Keith’s story unfolds. He’s sharing something from his past, a tiny piece of himself that he wants Shiro to have. He turns his body to fully face him, eager to drink from his words.

“One night I snuck out of bed and walked around – during the day it was impossible to get out of camper activities, so I had to wait until everyone was asleep so that I could go undisturbed.” Keith absently traces lazy circles on Shiro’s forehand with his thumb, eyes now set in a distant gaze towards irretrievable time. “I trudged through shadows of trees without even a flashlight – I was worried that if I brought one with me, the light would attract the camp patrol or something.”

Keith slightly turns and looks at the fountain, copious slivers of coagulated light from Jupiter Hall caught in its still waters.

“Then I somehow found myself standing by the lake,” he says a little quietly. “The lamplights were busted where I ended up, and it was a good thing, because the darkness only made the sky more beautiful.”

Shiro’s chest begins to swell with understanding and nostalgia as he recalls similar nights in which he’d gone hiking with his parents; the most active he’d become in the whole duration of the trip was during the night when the embers of the campfire died and he had a clear view of the moon and stars hanging above him on the velvety sky.

“I remember feeling like I was so close to taking off and flying – then I looked down,” Keith says as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Saw the whole lake and I—”

His face breaks into a smile, nostalgia fills his eyes, and Shiro swallows hard as he makes a quiet promise to protect that smile. “—it almost felt like the entire galaxy was trapped in the reflection of the water. I have never seen something so breathtakingly beautiful and mesmerizing. I wanted to feel it in my fingers, see how many stars I could collect in my hands.”

He chuckled lightly and the sound makes the jungle in Shiro’s stomach run wild.

“I guess it was the first time I ever felt something close to being high,” Keith continues, pauses before saying, “I dived in. I didn’t really think much about it, I just wanted to swim among the twinkling lights.”

Keith looks back up again at Shiro. “I ended up sick the next day. Missed camp activities for a couple of days. It was the price I had to pay for trying to knock the moon off its axis.”

Keith’s happy expression suddenly grows sober, and his eyes drift from Shiro’s face to their surroundings. He’s quiet for a few ticks, and Shiro wonders if that’s his cue to say something, until Keith squeezes his hand yet again, and speaks.

“ _This_ —” he begins, and the word comes in a raspy breath as he gestures the quad. “This is where I had that similar feeling of drowning in something majestic once again.”

Then he bites his lower lip and  his beautifully colored eyes find Shiro once again, and he cautiously inches closer, grips Shiro’s hand tighter. “Only this time, I’m not just sick for a couple of days.”

The intensity of his gaze makes Shiro swallow hard, commands hot blood to rush into his cheeks.

“You put a fever in me, Takashi, and it’s still burning inside me until now.”

Shiro is stunned into silence yet again, feels his own skin sizzling at the revelation. The impulse to do a lot of things at once grips him, and yet all he manages with his heart and brain speedily going into hyperdrive is—

 

 

 

 

“ _Keith_.”

“I know, I know,” Allura sighs, exasperated, her open palms raised halfway up her head. “You’ve been saying his name over and over for the past half hour. How did it go to tonight?”

Shiro shifts his weight on the window sill; he’d arrived in his dorm room with Allura already plopped on his bed, her eyes raking every page of his embarrassing growing collection of Keith sketchpads. He’d taken a seat on the open widow, one leg folded onto his chest, gaze cast out into the half-sleeping campus and vast night sky.

“Allura, I feel like I’ve entered into a new realm of unexplored happiness,” he sighs, feeling full yet oddly dissatisfied at the same time. The phantom touch of Keith lingers in his now empty hand, making his chest ache for a kind of longing he’d never encountered before.

“Welcome to the sappy world of rainbows and romance,” Allura chuckles good-naturedly as she picks up yet another volume of the Keith Series from the study table. “So I take it that you had the best first date ever?”

Shiro takes a moment to recount the events of the night, and settles on selectively leaving out some details – such as the intimate moment of Keith sharing a childhood story, and the strange phenomenon of differently colored condoms raining down when he bade Keith goodnight at the bottom of the stairs that led to the doors of the Sirius Dormitory.

_“Dick. Him. Dick. Him. Dick. Hi—mmmphh!”_

_“She didn’t mean that! I, uh… I swear Nugget didn’t mean that.”_

_“Boo, Keith, booo!” Then, like an afterthought, “Also, Shiro, you’re real awesome!”_

_Keith was a couple of steps in front of him, his face mere inches from a very flustered Shiro that he wondered if the heat was from the blood boiling in his cheeks or from Keith’s warm breath._

_With an impatient grunt, Keith pulled away, hands unclasping the front of Shiro’s collar, a razor sharp glare directed at one of the open windows at the front of the building. Was he about to place his mouth on Shiro’s? Was that why Shiro had momentarily blacked out?_

_“Ten seconds before I pulverize you,” Keith growled through gritted teeth._

_“But we all chipped in to purchase that box of assorted condoms—!”_

_“_ Ten. _”_

_A set of hurried footsteps and of bottles clinking together was heard from three levels up, followed by a string of slurred profanities and the sound of a door slamming._

_In front of him, Keith sighed, turned back to look at Shiro with one last lingering gaze, leaned closer to ghost his lips over Shiro’s ear._

_“Tomorrow,” Keith half-whispers the silent promise against Shiro’s burning skin before turning and disappearing through the doors of the building._

Shiro decides to leave that part out of the narrative – anything about condoms shall be omitted.

He then spends the next ten minutes verbally recounting the happenings of his night to Allura, who dramatically clutches at her chest and at his pillows at every thirty second interval. She almost loses it when Shiro gets to the part in which Keith hooked his finger into his pocket.

“So we reach the Jupiter Hall and just talk about stuff,” Shiro shrugs, but his blush turns deeper recalling Keith’s straightforward honesty, the poetic quality of his confession. “Then I spent the next few minutes giving him a ride on my shoulder around the quad—”

“Wait,” Allura holds a hand up. “You… you literally just gave him a ride on your shoulder?”

“… Yes?”

“How did that happen?”

“Well, after that talk we had about… stuff,” Shiro stammers, a hand going up to rub at the back of his neck. “Keith just suddenly leaned closer, stood on his tiptoes and looked up at me. My brothers used to do that you know, whenever they wanted me to carry them over my shoulder or when they needed something… what?”

Allura’s beautiful face is contorted into an assortment of incredulity, confusion… disappointment?

“ _Takashi Shirogane_ ,” she says slowly, slurring his name over her tongue like a mother a few seconds from reprimanding her son. “How could you misinterpret that kind of blatant gesture as a request to be carried on your god-given arms?”

“… Pardon?”

Allura sighs, walks over to Shiro with a retired yet happy smile playing on her lips. She places a hand on his shoulder, steadying him in place, because she has a feeling that the next thing she says might just propel him out the window.

“Shiro,” she begins, her voice tender. “When he presents the opportunity to _kiss_ , you just lean down and let the fireworks explode, okay?”

It takes three whole heartbeats before Shiro formulates a response.

“ _What_?”

 

 

 

 

A couple more dates later, _it_ happens.

Kissing Keith is a jolt of electricity, the calm of a forest, the breathtaking beauty of fireworks simultaneously painting the night sky with their brilliance.

Shiro almost regrets missing the clues that night, but when Keith presses back into him, all thought goes out the window as he lets himself drown deeper, lets his hands get lost at the back of Keith’s neck and in the locks of his hair.

He lets the same fever burn through him, setting him alight.

 

**Author's Note:**

> THAT'S IT. for now
> 
> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THIS SAPPY MESS UNTIL THE END
> 
> also, SPECIAL THANKS to my little sister (who has never read this fic on this site) for the endless support and constant urging for me to work on this fic; to the amazing fanartists who created works inspired on this series; to the people who enthusiastically rec'd this college au to other readers  
> i'm blessed to be in this fandom filled with so much wonderful people
> 
> goodnight!  
> kudos and/or comments are love <3


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